


A Dog and His Android

by Nolfalvrel



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Adorable Connor, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst and Feels, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Whump, Connor Deserves Happiness, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Gang Violence, Gen, Good Dog Sumo (Detroit: Become Human), Good Parent Hank Anderson, Hank Anderson & Connor Parent-Child Relationship, Hank Anderson Adopts Connor, Human Trafficking, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Connor, M/M, Not graphic but Sumo ran away from a bad place, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Hank Anderson, Protective Sumo, References to Animal Abuse, References to Drugs, Some dark themes, Sumo adopts Connor as his puppy son, Sumo is BEST DAD, Whump, kid!Connor, the dog does NOT die at the end of this fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:21:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22170070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nolfalvrel/pseuds/Nolfalvrel
Summary: In which Sumo is Best!Dad, and adopts a young Connor from the streets.And Hank Anderson inevitably adopts both of them.
Relationships: Connor/Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Hank Anderson & Connor, Hank Anderson & Connor & Sumo
Comments: 48
Kudos: 458





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I just... couldn't get this out of my head? I dunno it's written very rushed and a lot less doggy detailed than I was hoping but I had to get this scene out there so here goes.
> 
> Also, the boy is definitely Connor, and he's definitely adorable in mini-Jericho-infiltrating-clothes.
> 
> Also also, the POV is Sumo at first, but there may be other character perspectives later.

He isn’t sure of the exact reason for instigation of their relationship.

Sumo is a big dog. And though he’s not a very old dog, he has been alone on the streets a long time. Long enough to be a bit mean and growly.

Long enough to demand food scraps instead of beg for them.

Long enough to know when those humans with the weird hats and wands start coming towards him, he needs to start running away.

So yeah, he’s big and a bit mean faced and meaner-growled, but he’d never bitten anyone, ever. Never felt the need to.

Until now.

The creature that slides into the alley is small, and it doesn’t take much to figure out it’s one of those smaller humans the big ones got weirdly possessive about. The ones that make a lot of noise and often want to chase after him, though that’s quickly put a stop to. His overall mass is very intimidating. 

The boy is wearing something brown and scuffed and very large, and his hair is very unkempt and curly where it peeks out from a grey knit hat. Almost like the tufts right at the back of Sumo’s neck that are perpetually itchy. He’s got dirt over his face and on his bare knees and he smells like something that gets Sumo’s nostrils flaring immediately from under his cardboard box.

_Blood._

He perks up, watching the boy scramble and jump for the too high metal rungs that hang from the building side, where larger humans often leap on and off. There’s shouting following, and the boy whirls to throw a panicked look to the street before wading through trash bags, throwing himself behind the dumpster and tugging his hat over his ears. Eyes and limbs clenching tight in a ball.

The boy doesn’t notice him. Sumo watches the alleyway fill with two large, dark shapes, and they speak to each other in that loud human way that normally begets violence, reeking of testosterone.

That usually means violence too.

They split up slightly, one checking empty metal bins and slamming the lids shut, the other tugging on the metal bars the boy had reached for. That one scratches his head, then steps shakily round the dumpster, starting.

“Oi! He’s here Benny!” The man calls, snatching at the boy’s arm when the child tries to make a break for it. There’s something nasty and hurtful in that grip that sets Sumo to growl. “What the fu—”

The boy just looks so helpless, so frightened as he glances at Sumo that the Saint Bernard can taste it, watching him being yanked easily into the air. So fragile and sad and—and—

Smol.

And Sumo’s teeth are in the man the next moment.

“ARRGHH!” On reflex, the man has to let go of the little human pup, trying to shake off the dog. The much stronger, angrier dog, that bares his teeth and chomps in place again. “FUCK! FUCK FUCK!” They fall backward.

The man pulls out something black and boxy. He slams it into Sumo’s head, and for the first time in many years, Sumo remembers pain.

Not just the pang of hunger, or the sharp grazes he sometimes got getting stuck underneath a wired fence as he roams the street. The memory is not often visited, being free for so long to do and wander as he pleased. Snarling a threat at anyone who dared to enter his space.

When he was smaller, maybe the same size as the tiny human figure that had ducked behind him, Sumo lived in a warm cozy bed and had plenty of food to eat, and like clockwork when the rasp of a pop and satisfied gasp came from the fridge, he got a large plate of dripping bones that he laved over despite the full tummy.

And like clockwork after the fourth pop in front of the box with all the noise and pictures, the big tall human that used to take him on walks and trot him around work and toss him pieces of bacon every morning with a laughing hum, would undo his belt and get to screaming. And those big cozy feet that gave him tummy rubs came into his stomach and—

Sumo feels that same purply-black spot vision surface as the butt of the object smacks into his head again. He lets go, shaking madly, barking. The man scrambles to his feet.

An explosion of noise sounds beside Sumo and he tastes the scent of fear rising behind him and all he can think to do is attack.

He raves, jaw closing around the fingers that extend with the black rectangle, hearing the man screech as he snaps his head to the side. Ripping the man off his feet again. The human’s companion is rushing forward, own black box outstretched but wavering as Sumo locks his jaw and fights back against the desperate pulling of his victim, paws shredding.

“SHIT MARY FUCKING A DUMPSTER GET THIS BITCH OFF ME!” The man squeals, kicking fiercely as Sumo begins to bear down. 

Another one of those acrid smelling sounds goes off and Sumo hears a ‘no’ simultaneously. He watches the boy shove into the legs of the other man, throwing him off balance. It’s a small victory as the tall figure easily captures the boy’s scruff, shaking him.

“Shut up you little fu—AHH!”

The man slams into the ground, backing away desperately at the mad depravation of the foaming mouthed beast Sumo has become. His barks shatter the silence of the night, louder than the sirens and the bustle of street noise and the honks of those noisy metal beds on wheels. “Sweet Jesus put this thing _down_!”

“The Hell is going on over here?” A disgruntled, new voice demands from the entrance of the building split, sounding a bit distorted and mechanical, and the man beneath Sumo’s towering form scrambles to his feet.

He doesn’t attack, even as Sumo chases him with barks, daring him to come forward. “It’s a pig! Let’s split asshole!” The other, bleeding, moves behind the Saint Bernard to throw himself onto the hanging metal contraption from earlier. He’s also chased by Sumo, who growls and bays savagely even as they spider up the building walls.

Sumo licks his nose in satisfaction.

The little pup is breathing fast but freezes when Sumo looks towards him. He still looks small, and terribly frightened, and curls just like a pup would. He doesn’t know a whole lot about human behavior but he knows little ones don’t like to be chased like that by big ones, the same way little dogs get scared of him in parks. 

There’s a great big cut on the child’s cheek that also looks a bit purple.

“G-good b-b-boy,” The kid says, then stumbles backward as Sumo approaches in a hurry. His focus is that horrible cut as he whines and begins to lick in big, fast, sweeping motions. His tongue covers the tiny face easily. “G-g-good!” The child gasps, little fists coming to Sumo’s shoulders.

Then there’s crunching at the mouth of the alley, and Sumo is growling, then grabbing at the child’s clothes and tugging fiercely. The boy comes easily, though he tries to resist, no match for the strength of the enormous dog. Sumo pulls him back towards the fence.

“What’s happening over here?” That weird voice sounds a lot more normal, and light flashes on the trashed filled former Sumo-territory.

Now empty and abandoned, even as the flashlight shines over the corners, pausing on the shaking ripped corner of the metal fence at the back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> P1) Sumo fights off a thunderstorm. 
> 
> P2) Connor makes a friend. (Not Markus yet)
> 
> ***WARNING -- This chapter contains references to child abuse, neglect, and even suggestions of pedophilia. Nothing explicit happens, but there is insinuation that it has affected a character. Please read at your own risk.***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Timeskip!
> 
> Connor and Sumo have both been together for several months when this takes place. They know each others names, but not where each came from. 
> 
> and.. also
> 
> … because I’m dumb I was looking at the title and a comment and realized that I didn’t explain that it’s meant to break the fourth wall??
> 
> Connor is not an android in this verse, although there are androids. I just liked the idea of paying homage to C.S. Lewis’ title for The Horse and His Boy, and the fact that the canon character is an android, and we all know that, even though Connor’s still actually a human in this fic…? (；・∀・)
> 
> Are you confused yet…? (；ﾟДﾟ)
> 
> …Maybe I’ll tie it in somehow ((((；ﾟДﾟ))))

Connor is precious.

Sumo doesn’t know how he comes to that conclusion, but the child is officially, incredibly and ridiculously, the cutest crying animal he has ever encountered on the planet ever.

Not that he _wants_ the boy to cry!

But Connor’s eyes hover on that barely there trespass into water works, gleaming with tears that swell until the dog is looking into two drenched penny jewels, for such an eternity before spilling that it makes that one fast beating part in Sumo’s chest squeeze itself up into a tiny ball. And when the tears do come, Connor doesn’t wail. He just sits there, shoulders trembling, knees high, hiding under his hood, giving shaky little breaths in and out as the world around them turns white.

**_SSSKKKREEEEEOOOMMM_ **

And the whole thing just--

It chokes the air out of Sumo. Makes him incapable of wanting to do anything other than lick that speckled, tiny face.

Connor has never cried before.

Immediately, Sumo does what he knows best when confronted with anything that desires to inflict harm upon Connor. 

Like he’d done when he’d first met the boy and those big persons had dared put hands on him. 

Like he’d done for the hot dog man last week when he tried to get too close and made the boy recoil. 

Like he’d done when those chittering squirrels, who one could never be sure what the evil little freaks were plotting, decided to swarm Connor and the bag of crunchies he was munching.

Sumo leaps to his feet and begins to **Snarl-and-Bark TM.**

“RUFF!”

**_SHHHKKKRRRADUMMM_ **

For a moment there is only that unholy sound, which has been attacking them for the past ten minutes, before the water resumes it’s song against the glass. Sumo snarls louder.

“BARK! BARK!”

 ** _FFFTTTTTHHHHHKDOOMMM_** **_FFFTTTTTHHHHHKDOOMMM_**

“RRRRUUFF! RRUFFF! GRRR!” He tries to go louder than the stupid noises. ”GGRRRUFFFF! BARK!”

In human speak it probably means something like, _’FUCK OFF YOU MEAN NASTY DICKBAG FRISBEE!’_

**_ThhhhheeeAAAVVRRRUUMMMM_ **

“GRRR! GRRRUFF! BARK BARK!” _’CONNOR’S CRYING HERE ASSHOLE!’_

“Sumo! Sumo!” Connor calls panickily, and Sumo looks to see the boy tapping splayed fingers to his own collar, eyes wide and wet in a confession of uncontrollable fear.

Connor does not act like other small human beings that need looking after. He tries to be very independent. He wakes them both up early every morning. Gets them breakfast. Uses a long stick to scrub his teeth in the gross building with lots of water mouths. He spends an exorbitant amount of time looking at those papery blocks Sumo enjoys shredding. And playing with a weird silver button.

He also tells Sumo what to do often. 

Not verbally, usually, but with signals. Whistling and gesturing for _‘Look Here’_. Patting his thigh when he sits cross-legged in their tent for _’Come Play’_. Pushing down with both hands twice when they climb into the long moving boxes underground to say _’Sit Down’_. 

Which, he would like any other nosy dog watching to know, Sumo does begrudgingly and with great attitude, so mind your own business and go back to sniffing your own lousy bits. 

Overall these behaviours are enormous disruptors for a dog that once was king of a wonderfully constructed cardboard-and-people-cast-offs castle. 

In the beginning, he was very rebellious and barky and even spitefully threw himself into an enormous mud puddle he spotted the first time Connor gave a trill and beckoned, clearly saying ‘no’. 

However after splashing about delightedly for a few minutes, tossing himself in the gunk, showing that he obeyed NO MAN, he’d realized there was absolute silence and looked up from his back to see Connor had followed him. 

The face that rarely broke character from a passive cuteness now gave the smallest nose flares in a barely there frown. Covered in tossed sludge. Hand bonking the dog’s nose with a baby ‘poff’.

“Stop Sumo!” 

Sumo sneezed at the touch, and Connor gave a start, and his lips twitched shakily upward in a hummingbird-quick smile.

And if there had been any doubt in Sumo’s mind before that he was in love with this little creature and would share any and all bones with him, so help him Doggy Heaven, it was erased as he quickly got back on his paws and whined in apology.

He’s tried his best to always make Connor not-so-stern. Driving away big things is a very large part of that.

But. Now. Sumo is confused. Because he can’t get rid of this big thing. And Connor is crying. 

Barking stresses Connor out. Sumo knows this. He starts chewing his lip and he starts scratching at his arm, even when covered in that big brown skin. He starts stuttering again.

However, barking typically works in driving away malcontent. And afterwards he rewards Connor with some licks for being so brave. So they’re generally happy with the arrangement.

But again, now, it isn’t working. 

Clearly, Connor wants him to give up because he doesn’t think he can do it.

**_ThhhhheeeAAAVVRRRUUMMMM_ **

He’s not doing a good enough job.

**_SHHHKKKRRRADUMMM_ ** **_SHHHKKKRRRADUMMM_ **

He’s not protecting Connor.

**_SSSKKKREEEEEOOOMMM_ ** **_SSSKKKREEEEEOOOMMM_ **  
**_SSSKKKREEEEEOOOMMM_ **

He’s letting Connor _cry_.

Sumo dives outside their home, perching on a tire, damp fur raised, as he calls that stupid round circle hiding in the blackness every name in the dog curse book.

Sumo unleashes fury at the sky. When it responds louder he chases it further, over the tracks and round the corner and right up to the grimy windows. Completely immersed in his task.

It must work. It must send that horrid white pancake packing. The concussion of bangs and shrieks begin to fade, and Sumo gives a final few chuffs of, _’and don’t come back’_ , licking his nose. 

He prances back inside with indolent pride, and he freezes when he spots the ball that Connor has become. He pads close, sniffing the shivering bundle. He digs his nose in, tries to pull out the boy’s face. 

Eventually, Connor emerges. 

“D-d-d-on’t-t l-l-leav-ve m-me.” His face is torturous; twisted; terrified; and Sumo keens at the accusing stuttering.

What happened? He’d driven off that wretched, roaring thing, hadn’t he?

The boy flinches at a fading echo. “Y-y-you c-can’t-t j-j-just le-leave.” Connor rubs his eyes and face furiously with both hands, letting Sumo burrow and whine into his stomach and under his chin. He shoves the boy bodily, careful of his weight and paws but still scrambling against him. Begging for acknowledgement. Even though he doesn’t know what exactly, he did wrong.

He must have missed something. While he was gone. Something must have happened.

Or is Connor just that upset at having been ignored?

Sumo doesn’t know, doesn’t linger on it, because Connor is finally digging his little mitts into his fur, still sniffling, and it’s usually a sign that he will be forgiven rather quickly.

So he’ll try not to do that again. 

Leave Connor alone, that is.

* * *

Sumo is unencumbered joy.

They’re walking back home, Sumo ahead and panting, Connor quiet and lagging. 

Sumo slobbers around the filthy tennis ball he had tossed, bounding back in excitement. Connor had come out from the charity store with it in his pocket, and since then they’ve been playing what Sumo seems to think is the absolute best game ever invented.

Other than the very exciting one where he tugged on anything long and stringy that Connor held. 

Connor sometimes got exasperated over that.

This time the dog comes back in such a rush he takes Connor’s feet out, and he grips the Saint Bernard in surprise, almost tumbling. “Sumo!” Feet dangling, he stares at the dog, who decides to ditch the yellow furry sphere to the side and slurp over Connor’s nose with a belligerent ‘boof’. He scrunches his nose “…Gross.”

He’s accosted by an entire ocean’s worth of saliva then. “Guhh!”

What a bratty dog!

He seems to be amenable to Connor most of the time, though. For such a big, boisterous beast. Under the sun, the inside corner of his ear turns translucent, black ink letters refusing the light.

‘S-U-M-O.’

Not for the first time, Connor wonders at the animal’s story, even as Sumo playfully jostles him in an attempt to dislodge the boy from his fur. That kind of marking is usually put on posh, flaunted, kept dogs. He doesn’t know too much about breeds, but back at the House, Amanda used to complain about putting big dogs down cause they cost a lot of money. So it made sense that Sumo probably cost a lot of money too. 

Usually people don’t put their names on things they intend to throw away.

Sumo listens to a lot of the things adults find peculiar about Connor. Like how he doesn’t want to talk a lot of the time (at the House that had been appreciated) so he finds other ways of communicating. 

Like how Connor likes to wander (which really hadn’t been allowed back then, since it broke routine) and Sumo doesn’t need a leash because he naturally just follows.

Like how he has to have some kind of contact to sleep (he had never been held by another person enthusiastically) so Sumo all but engulfs him.

He’s let down with a thump, probably not intended, but back on his feet just as quickly. He ducks a hand behind his back quickly. Sumo whines and noses at his stomach and Connor dodges. “Ah! Ah! What? What are you looking for?” 

Sumo whimpers knowingly.

If he were another child, he might split his face wide with a grin. Instead, Connor’s lips barely pull upwards as he laughs. Scruffing the dog’s thick fur. He gets distracted by the motion, falling into that ridiculous mesmer Amanda loathed, until Sumo whines again. Then he pauses the act. Realizing his lapse. It’s annoyance at himself that makes him whip the ball off in a high overhand swing. Sumo bolts after it.

Once alone, Connor kicks the earth in frustration. “S-stop being weird!” He scolds. He needs to be able to take care of Sumo without worrying that he’s going to stop in front of a bus crossing the street.¬

Sumo is actually, also, a bit of a rascal. He gets very loud whenever anyone trespasses into Connor’s personal space, be it man, woman, android or child. He’ll put himself between Connor and people when they wait at the crosswalk. He’ll wait diligently in front of the stall in the public washrooms Connor uses. He’ll put his head in the boy’s lap in the corner of the library, cracking open a single eye to glare whenever someone has to step around them. 

It almost seems as though the huge animal believes Connor belongs to him.

This is a very important fact for what came next.

“Hello!”

Connor whirls, surprised. He blinks, and looks up at a tall skinny man with a pale face. His hair is very light. His clothing is white, but dirty.

Connor’s first thought, other than amazement at the sheer height of the man, is how tired he looks. He’s got deep, pinched bruises to either side of his nose. And a great, huge plaster on the left cheek that’s a little brown. It makes the kind smile he gives Connor look a bit morose.

And the slightest bit scary.  
He’s got both hands tucked into his jacket as he crouches in front of the boy. Next to them, the chain link fence rattles, a squall displacing some dust. “Are you lost?”

“My name is Connor,” Connor blurts out, relieved for a breath that he manages to say it perfectly.

The man laughs. “Connor, huh?”

“What’s your name?” 

“It’s Daniel,” The man grins. “Have you ever met a Daniel before?”

“No.”

“Well, pleasure to be your first.” He takes a hand out quickly from his left pocket, extending it towards Connor. Connor doesn’t flinch, even though it’s sudden, because he knows the man is too far away for the motion to actually touch him. So the hand hangs between them, long and thin like the rest of him, and Connor can maybe see that he has dirt under his fingernails too. His eyes train back on Daniel.

He doesn’t take the hand, even though he knows he’s supposed to. 

He doesn’t want to.

Daniel snorts after a time, balling his hand up to a fist and retracting it back into his pockets. It’s a windbreaker overset with teal blue lines, one of those expensive ones with the popular picture on the left breast. Like the rest of him, it’s mostly white except for groddy brown splatters. He doesn’t seem irritated by Connor’s rudeness.

“I like your jacket. It’s very retro. Do you know what that means? Means it looks like something from the past. From the ‘good ol’ days’.” Daniel seems content to keep crouching, which Connor finds a bit more comfortable, because staring up at a looming person makes him a bit anxious. “It’s a bit big on you though. Is it yours?”

“Yes,” Connor says quickly. He doesn’t want the man to think he’d stolen it. 

“Not your dad’s? Or, brother’s?” His hand comes out again, gently gesturing for Connor to _‘go on, admit it’_.

“No. I f-found it,” Connor nervously admits, wondering if that maybe still counts as theft. It had been in the ‘Take-Me-Home’ bin in the donation place. Which people never yelled at him for taking things from. But maybe they just hadn’t noticed what he was doing. “I w-was allowed.”

Daniel laughs again, even though what Connor said isn’t funny.

“Well, that is very awesome. It’s amazing what you find from what people throw away these days, right?”

Connor doesn’t answer. He doesn’t know how to. 

“You’re really very cute! You must have lots of friends. Are you going to play with them?”

He thinks of Sumo, checking the empty lot behind. Keeps it to himself. 

“…And smart, not wanting to talk to strangers. Your mom must be so proud.”

Connor tenses at the ‘m’ word. Daniel lets silence fester. His voice, when it comes again, is soft and tender, though it still hasn’t lost the jovial lilt.

“Are you alone out here Connor? It’s okay, you can tell me. I just want to make sure you’re safe.” 

It seems like a reasonable question, and so far, Daniel has been incredibly nice, which is new from the cold indifference he usually encounters from grownups. The boy mulls over whether he should admit to Sumo now. 

Would it cause Daniel to get upset? Adults hated when he lied. Amanda said not saying something was always equivalent to fibbing. 

“Tell you what Connor, it’s okay, you don’t have to tell me, just take me to where you live so I can see that you have somebody taking care of you. Okay?” 

Then Daniel makes the mistake of shuffling closer and reaching for Connor’s arm, and inexplicably, fear stabs through him.

“No,” Connor replies desperately, stepping back.

“No?” Daniel looks heartbroken. He doesn’t move. Yet. “Oh, but Connor, I just want to be your _friend_.”

“I d-don’t—” Where is Sumo?

“You don’t have _any_ friends, right? Wouldn’t it be nice to have one?”

“N-no.” Connor mumbles. He steps back a few more paces, putting space between them. 

But Daniel is moving. As he straightens, Connor trips, falling backward, before scrambling around into a panicked crawl, rushing to his feet. When the snap of being held back, tethered to the tall grinning man, happens, Connor starts screaming. “No! NO! NO!”

Twisting, he tries to dislodge Daniel’s fingers. But they’re long and viper like and compress painfully as he drags Connor back towards him. 

“Shh, shh. Aww, sweetie,” He croons, pulling the boy into a cocoon of limbs. Somehow they’ve traded places in the arrangement, and Daniel’s body is covering the direction Connor fights to see, to run to, where’d he’d lobbed the tennis ball. He gets a final glimpse over the man’s shoulder before he’s pulled and pinned back inside.

“NO!”

Home.

“NO! S-STOP IT!”

The other hand comes out of the jacket.

Daniel is whispering quietly into Connor’s ear, arm clamped over his chest as the child bucks, before he notices the spark of light. The boy freezes, transfixed on the sliver of silver that is impossibly filthy, maybe a bit rusted, but unmistakably a knife. It has a serrated edge, like a comb, and attaches to a vibrant blue handle the same colour as Daniel’s eyes.

“Calm down, we’re all calm here,” Daniel soothes. With the knife, crusted near black, hand, he brings slow fingers down Connor’s cheek. “Shh. Calm down, just calm down.” 

He doesn’t want to be calm. The entire situation is very stressful, and the way that Daniel just continues to hum and pet him, as though he’s misbehaving, makes Connor want to sob.

“Sumo,” Connor whines, even as Daniel presses a kiss to his hair.

The snarl that comes is merciless. 

Sumo collides with Daniel’s back like a bullet. 

Daniel shrieks, letting go, tossed to the side as Connor scrambles free. He whips around, watching the enormous dog scream savagely as it ripped into the man, and the way they tumble is frightening and violent. They dislodge and then Sumo comes at the man again, chomping. Daniel’s arms flurry. Sumo’s teeth come away red and angry, releasing his snap on the left elbow to growl before getting a firm grip on the right arm.

Sumo is a loving dog. But he is also possessive.

He pulls Daniel about like a rag doll. 

Left. Right.

Thrashing him like a drowning fish. This time he doesn’t leg go until the man kicks fiercely. Daniel clambers to his feet, bloodied, panting, staggering away as Sumo leaps to attention. Placing himself between Connor, who is struggling to catch breath, and someone who is very clearly not a very nice ‘Daniel’.

The Saint Bernard all but roars. 

Daniel bolts. Fast.

Well, as best as he can. His pathetic limp could be outpaced by a turtle.

Sumo does not pursue, instead snarling in progressively quieting warning. 

That should have been the first indication that something was wrong.

Eventually, the dog sits, and Connor takes another shaky inhale.

He feels gross. He’s pretty sure there are smudges from Daniel’s repulsive fingers over his cheeks, and cut from when they were separated. His throat feels sore and his head is spinning and there’s an awful taste in his mouth even though he hasn’t eaten anything yet today, and he just feels cold and hot all at once, enormously uncomfortable, and-andwhycan’thestopshaking—

Sumo’s low, piteous whine, slows everything down. Connor looks up. 

He shuffles over to the dog, collapsing onto his back, wheezing, lungs straw small. He pets the thick fur of the animal’s stomach slowly. “Good boy. Good boy. Good… boy.”

Connor’s face scrunches when he pulls his hand away and it’s red and wet.

* * *

It’s as Hank’s dropping off another load of useless crap, old books and clothes that don’t fit him anymore, that he gets the call. He waves goodbye to Shuirly, who looks unimpressed as she chews gum, texting with one thumb, boredly tossing some of the items straight up into the trash bin without waiting for him to leave. 

Fucking gen-A1s.  
“Lieutenant Anderson,” He grumbles into the cell, because this is an on-call day, which most people in the department get to take as basically a paid _off_ day, but since he’s the unluckiest bastard to walk the planet, he always gets a call.

“Anderson! Fowler’s going ballistic. You need to get down here.” Chris sounds excited and plucky, which is kind of him most of the time, but it’s out of touch with the whole ‘Fowler-tantrum’ thing. 

Hank slowly makes his way to his Holden. “What happened?” He searches idly for the correct key on his ring.

“We caught Daniel Waterson last night.”

Hank jolts, almost dropping his phone. He grips it tightly. “The ‘High-Rise’ killer?”

“Yeah, that one. And you won’t believe this, he’s in the _ICU_.”

“What!” He has a thought and it’s out of his mouth before he can reel it in. “Please do not tell me Mrs. Philips made good on her word to throttle that sonofabitch.”

“No! Although some idiot rookie called her in to the station and told her about it. She’s online now racking up petitions to toss him out of Detroit Central.”

Hank brings a hand down his face. “Fuck, no, it was probably Ga—just, nevermind. Make sure nobody goes in and out of that unit without a police escort.” He yanks open his car door, sliding furiously behind the wheel. 

“Already on it—but, Hank, listen man, it gets weirder.”

“Weirder than having some fucking vigilante drop an-almost body on our doorstep?”

“ _Yes_. He wasn’t responsive so we rushed DNA to make sure it wasn’t the twin, y’know, Simon? And they found freaking blood under his fingernails.”

“Kind of underwhelming and frankly, expected, for a serial killer, no offense Chris.”

“No, listen—the blood! It belongs to your ghost case. That missing witness, that boy, what do you call him?” Chris gives an ‘ah-ha!’.

“The 800.”

Hank drops the phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh please don't worry too much about Sumo he has plot armour.
> 
> And Connor's love.
> 
> Also did u like mah horrible thunder sound effects :P
> 
> Filled a couple prompts for my Discord servers peeps! 
> 
> 1) Sumo and Connor experience a thunderstorm/play in a mud puddle  
> 2) Hidden Wound  
> 3) Delayed Realization
> 
> And yes, doggy Sumo would totally curse at anything that dared to hurt his precious baby angel!
> 
> I hope I haven't depicted Connor as too whiny! He is quite young in this, and definitely has social integration issues.
> 
> Please leave a comment if you can! I would love to hear some additional prompts that I can add between parts of the overarching story! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you have any fluffy suggestions for these two definitely leave me a comment :D otherwise hope to see you again with future chapters!


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